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Fred Hughes

Fred Hughes,a kind man,who lived down the hall.
He wore overalls and a button up shirt,
buttoned all the way to his collar along with a faded brown bow tie.

He made noises, from his keys hooked onto his pockets,
he was only seen a problem in my building was reported.
He was the one complained to, almost everyday he lived there.
The fixer of all the problems of the building

and the one who quietly took the verbal abuse when it was not fixed in time.

He was the man who was taken for granted,
though he was slightly stooped and walked slowly,
he was expected to carry on with the problems of a building, perhaps as old as he was,
but I never knew how old he was, he just was always old.

Holidays came, left and without a visitor,
though once in the elevator, he asked to help me with my groceries, I let him.
Afterwards, I told him, "Thanks," I gave him money for his trouble.
He looked insulted.

No one knew his name, except by the 'Super.'
No one knew where he came from, how long he had been there before me.
Only until now, on his headstone, we see a name of Fred Hughes.

The man who lived as our neighbor for ten years
and we never knew his name until,
the time he passed from this world, in his sleep,
no,we missed out on the life of an old man
who lived three doors down.

Learn more about this author, maddie rose.
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